Together We Will Burn The Whole World Down
by LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou
Summary: Ian Doyle & Emily Prentiss / - In the end it's Emily who lures Tsia into a trap. Her dark eyes filled with rage as she pulls the trigger. And Ian knows, that she is the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with. -


**Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

**************AN: This is just another "What If" possibility. Yes, I love those. It's about Ian and Emily, and Emily isn't exactly a Saint in this one.**

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**Together We Will Burn The Whole World Down**

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Emily Prentiss comes into Ian Doyle's life like a hurricane.

Her eyes the darkest he has ever seen, her smile enough to make him forget how much he despises the world. Her voice filled with desire and just listening to her makes him feel like she's already stripping off her clothes for him.

He stares at her from across the table, his glass of Scotch long forgotten in his hand. Watches her perfect body, the way she moves, the way she bends over the table ever so slightly and it takes all his self control not to grab her and fuck her right then and there.

He already knows that she's not an arms dealer, even though she does a marvelous job pretending she is. Knows that she's working for Interpol instead. Knows that she's supposed to take him down. Knows because the girl on her team is working for him.

He knows he has to put a bullet though her beautiful head, f_uck he should have done that half an hour ago_. But looking at her, Ian knows that he won't. Knows that he can't.

He bends over the table, close and closer until they're only inches apart. Inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla that lingers in her hair. Thinking about all the ways he could make her scream. Make her come alive. Set her on fire with the touch of his hands, make her writhe in pleasure and pain for the rest of the night. And he can't help but wonder how she'll taste. If it'll be the same sweet flavor like her scent.

He reaches for her hand before he stops himself from doing so. Surprised when she allows him to lead her outside. And even more surprised when she's the one who pushes him back against the wall as soon as they step into the cold Boston night.

For a brief second Ian allows himself to wonder if hooking up with the enemy is what Interpol calls undercover work. _If so_, _he's obviously pursuing the wrong business._

By the moment her soft lips come crashing down against his, it doesn't matter any longer.

.

When he leaves the States he takes her with him even though he has no idea why. There's no time for feelings in the life he lives.

He's a terrorist, a warrior. Or how she loves to call him - _a fighter._ He never cared about anything or anyone. Doesn't believe in forgiveness, honesty or - _God forbid_ -love. There's no time for weakness, no time for remorse.

All his life women had been just a distraction, a way to release all the built up frustration. Nothing more than toys he could replace.

But with her, _with Emily,_ everything's different. Even when he wishes it weren't.

His men look at him like he's lost his mind. And a part of him already wonders if maybe he has.

He knows that he should kill her, that he should leave her dead body for her team to find. But every time he grabs his gun, every time he places the cold barrel against her temple he finds himself unable to pull the trigger. Watches her sleep for the rest of the night instead.

.

When his closest man dares to question him, he kills him without blinking. And for the first time in his life, Ian is tired of what he does for a living.

He knows it's because of her. Knows that she's about to change him.

The beautiful woman that claimes to be Lauren Reynolds instead of Emily Prentiss. The woman that makes him question himself for the first time in his existence.

It's the reason he gives her what she was sent for. It's the reason he tells her that he's _Valhalla._

He holds her close that night, lying beside her in his bed. Her naked body pressed against his, while he tells her all his secrets. Offering her everything she came looking for.

And he wonders if she'll be gone in the morning. Wonders if this is the end. But when he wakes up, morning light flooding their bedroom, she's still there. Her head resting on his chest. Her small frame curled up against him.

.

One morning he walks in on her in the bathroom, his first instinct to walk right back out.

There's blood all over the white tiles and Emily in the center of it. The white nightgown soaked, blood running down her slender legs. Despair written all over her pale face.

Ian wants to yell for Louise, _for anyone,_ to deal with this. To take care of her. To do something. But no word leaves his lips.

He makes his way toward her instead, _slowly,_ trying to avoid the mess on the floor, before he bends down beside her. His hand reaching for her face.

When she looks up at him, her eyes are filled with pain. And everything in him tells him to run. But he doesn't move an inch. It's like he's frozen to the spot, like his body's already made a decision his mind isn't ready for.

There's no need for her to tell him what happened, it's written in the dark depths of her eyes. In the tears that spill down her cheeks. And when he closes his arms around her, Ian knows he'll never be the same again. _And neither will she._

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Days become weeks and weeks become months. Emily still at his side even though she already knows more than enough to destroy everything he worked so hard to gain.

He watches her from afar. Watches her when she plays with Declan in the garden of the house. And there's no other sound than the laugh of his son mixed with hers that makes him feel more at ease with himself. That makes him wish for a future he never bothered thinking about before he met her.

He's not sure why he tells her that Declan is his, isn't sure what he thinks she'll do. But he sees what's flashing in her eyes the second he tells her the truth.

Her offer to get him out, her voice so close to breaking, makes clear how much she wants him to say yes. How much she needs him to.

.

It's a sunny morning in Italy, when they come to tear them apart.

He's on the balcony of his Tuscan villa, watching the black cars pull into the driveway and knows this is it. Knows there's nothing he can do.

The last thing he sees before they shove her in the backseat of a car is the pain in her eyes.

_I didn't tell them._

Ian nods, gives her one last smile.

_I know, love. I know._

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He spends years in hell, somewhere in the dark dungeons of a North Korean prison cell. Left alone with the darkness and enough time to think about his own men changing sides. About his own people betraying him. Working against him.

He keeps his mouth shut for years, refuses to give away what they want. Thinks about all the ways he's going to torture and kill his people, _kill her,_ as soon as he finds a way out of the hell she put him in.

He's about to break when they tell him that his son is dead. When they make him look at pictures of Declan lying in a puddle of a blood.

He sits cuffed to a chair for what feels like an eternity, stares at the pictures. Thinks that it can't be true. That Emily had been the only one who knew the truth. That she would never have told anyone. That she loved his son just as much as he did.

When he spots the bitten down fingernails of the hand pointing the gun at Declan, he knows it's a message. A message from _Emily._

Her way to tell him that his son is safe.

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When he gets himself out of prison a few years later, his first move is to find his son. And he does, finds him safe and sound, together with Louise, in a small town near Washington D.C.

The little boy he had to leave is a teenage boy now. A smile growing on his face the second he opens the door.

It's Louise who explains what Emily did to keep them safe, Louise who tells him how much Emily must have loved him to risk not just her career but her life as well.

Ian's surprised to find her working for the Feds, but of course it had been the only way to be near Declan. The only way to go on with her life without causing suspicion.

He watches her for days, before he finally sends a single velvet flower. A message only she would understand.

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They meet right after dark, her hand already closed around a cup of coffee, when he sits down across from her. His blues eyes find her dark ones for the first time in so many years. And he can't help but admit that it feels like coming back home.

"Emily," he starts, unable to hide his smile. Addressing her by her real name for the first time since he met her. "It's been a long time."

He watches the emotions wash over her face and there are so many things he wants to tell her, so many things he needs to tell her. But in the end all he does is bend forward, his hands closing in around the gun she's holding under the table.

"I always knew who you were, Emily Prentiss."

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Her lips come crashing down against his, before the door to her apartment falls shut behind them. It's fast and needy and over far too soon.

They're still breathing hard, Ian's hands buried in her dark hair. Her body still pushed up against the wall. And he wonders how it's possible that she's even more beautiful than seven years ago.

He bends forward, moving down the side of her neck with his lips. Thinking that if he could he would never let go. But he knows he has to, knows that there isn't time. That they'll come for her.

"I don't understand," she whispers when he tells her and Ian wonders if she really doesn't know or if she's just too scared to admit that she always had.

"Who do you think told me about you in the first place?"

And with that he tells her, tells her that the woman Emily calls her friend has been working for him. That Tsia has been the one telling him about Emily, about JTF-12. And that in the end it had been Tsia who betrayed them all.

"She took my men over," Ian tells her. "She's the one who handed me over to the North Koreans. And I need you to know that I never gave orders to kill all those people. It was her."

"I have to take her out," he continues. "Tsia and the people who worked for me once. It's the only way to keep Declan, _and you,_ safe."

For a long time it's silent. The only sound from the rain drumming against the windows. And Ian is sure Emily's going to push him away, throw him out. Scream and yell. But she doesn't. Instead her voice is heavy with love, a familiar fire burning in her dark eyes.

"I'll help you," she breathes, while she bends forward to kiss him. "I'll help you."

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In the end it's her who lures Tsia into a trap. Her who puts a bullet straight through Tsia's head. Emily's dark eyes filled with rage as she pulls the trigger.

And Ian knows, that she is the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

They leave enough evidence to make the FBI believe it had been him. Emily makes sure of it. It's her who tells him to go to Boston, to wait for her there, while she does what she always has. Pretends to be someone she isn't.

When he has her bound to a chair in a dark warehouse he wants to do something entirely different than burning a four leaf clover in her flesh. But she insists, tells him it has to be real or her people won't buy it.

Stabbing her in the stomach is the worst he's ever done. The worst he ever had to do. Leaving her there on the cold ground even worse. But they have no choice.

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They meet again a few weeks later in France. She sits in a cafe with a newspaper in her hand and a cup of coffee on the table in front of her. An impish gleam in her dark eyes when she puts down the paper to meet his gaze. Ready to set the rest of their plan in motion, ready to set the whole world on fire. And Ian thinks that even when he thought it was impossible, he loves her even more.

Getting hold of Chloe is easy. She still hates him for all the obvious reasons and Emily does a pretty good job of convincing her to come back to kill Ian Doyle.

Louise only shakes her head when they tell her that she has to fake her death all over again, Declan grins and wants Emily to tell Ian how good he is at playing the dead kid.

When he looks up at Emily and Declan from the cold ground of the landing strip, he promises himself to keep them safe for the rest of his life. Promises himself to make them both happy. Even when he has no idea how to do that.

He's never been a good man, never been a good father either and maybe he never would. But maybe they didn't even need him to. Maybe the way he was was enough. Maybe that was what love was about. _Not that Ian Doyle would know._

When she finds her way back to the airport hours later, Louise and Declan are already settled on the jet behind him. He's standing in the pouring rain, Emily right in front of him. Neither of them saying a word, neither of them moving an inch.

It's goodbye all over again.

Clyde Easter is lingering in the shadows a few feet away and Ian still wonders if Emily even knows how much Easter must love her for doing this.

It's Emily who bends forward first, pressing her warm lips against Ian's. Telling him to wait for her. That she will come and find him wherever he is.

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She shows up on his doorstep in London a year later.

The gimmel ring glistening in the morning sun, a soft smile on her lips and a fire burning in her eyes. A fire matching the one in his.

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_(And together we'll burn the whole world down)._

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**Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

******************AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And of course a big thank you goes to the amazing clairebare for beta reading!**


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